


What must I do

by greenteafiend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenteafiend/pseuds/greenteafiend
Summary: Keith always dreamed of the day he’d find his soulmate. He always yearned to find the one person that might not leave him, the one person who might love him.Lance doesn’t believe in soulmates. His parents are perfectly happy together despite not being soulmates, and it’s way more romantic tochooseto be with someone, than to be forced with them because of an archaic genetic quirk. Besides, how do fate and the cosmos know what’s in his heart better than he does?
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 167





	What must I do

Keith didn’t even remember what had started the conversation, all he knew was that he and Lance Mcclain had ended up on opposite sides of a heated debate, and that their classmates could only watch in rabid fascination as they verbally tore each other to pieces. 

“Waiting for a soulmate who may or may not exist, who you might never even  _ meet, _ is just plain stupid!” cried Lance.

“If you  _ don’t _ wait and you meet your soulmate later, that means more people’s feelings will get hurt. The whole point of soulmates is that everyone has someone and no one gets hurt!”

“That’s cute, but real relationships _ don’t  _ work like that, they should be based on mutual trust and understanding, you know,  _ actually having feelings for each other _ , not cosmic mumbo jumbo telling you that you should be together—”

“It’s a good thing! Rather than wasting your time with people you don’t belong with, it tells you who you can trust!”

“Is that why you don’t bother with us, Kogane?” 

Keith flinched. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“You think you’re too good for the rest of us, you think you’re so superior, waiting for your soulmate—”   
  
“No I don’t!”

They were shouting now, getting in each other’s faces. 

“Just because I actually take my education  _ seriously _ —”

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?!” There was a shove, two palms thumping Keith in the chest.

“All you do is make noise and jokes!” Keith shoved back. “Maybe I don’t bother with _ you  _ because you’re annoying!” 

“Well I feel sorry for whoever ends up being _ your _ soulmate!”

And that was when an instructor stepped neatly in between them and told them to cool it or else she’d send them to Iverson’s office for a disciplinary meeting. 

Keith was so ruffled and irritated that he didn’t notice how warm his chest was, or the faint tingling sensation where Lance’s palms had pressed against him. 

He took his seat in the lecture hall and nearly stabbed holes through his notebook as he wrote, struggling not to use excessive force. 

Keith didn’t allow himself to fantasize about unrealistic dreams. He’d had youthful hope and any sense of limitless opportunity snuffed out pretty early on. He’d learned the hard way that life didn’t give you what you wanted. That there was no sense in aspiring for more, it was better to live in the moment and accept what you were given because that way you couldn’t ever be disappointed. 

The one dream, the only thing he still hoped for and clung to, that life hadn’t managed to crush out of him, was his soulmate. 

Or rather, the  _ idea _ of meeting his soulmate.

To a lonely boy that was always abandoned by the people he cared about, the idea of there existing some person out there meant for him, some person that would love him unconditionally and whom he could safely love in return without fear that they’d grow tired of him and leave… it became Keith’s most secret and fervent wish. 

He couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate. He couldn’t wait to love them, and hold them. All the loneliness wouldn’t matter when he found them.

Keith didn’t notice the tell-tale tingling in wrist until he was alone in his dorm, and the moment he did, he let out a gasp. His heart raced, and his palms became sweaty. 

Everyone knew what that meant. If you got close enough to your soulmate, their name would appear on your wrist. The necessary proximity varied from couple to couple, with some only appearing after touching each other, and others appearing after simply standing in the same room.

This was it. 

The moment Keith had been waiting for. Finally he would have someone to belong to…

“Patience yields focus,” he murmured to himself, taking a deep breath, and then he undid his right glove shakily. 

The letters were blue and the handwriting was all capitals, neat and compact.

It said  _ LANCE MCCLAIN. _

Keith stared at it until his vision blurred, and all he could hear was his own furious heartbeat in his throat. 

How could  _ Lance Mcclain _ be his soulmate? 

Sure he was attractive, but he was loud and obnoxious. In fact, Keith was pretty sure that even  _ before _ their little spat Lance had disliked him, if the glares and the sour looks thrown his way were any indication. He had no idea what he’d done, but he’d always cringed away from the negative attention, and avoided Lance. Until he got dragged into their argument earlier that day... 

His soulmate _ hated _ him and Keith was on the verge of a breakdown. Not for the first time, he wished Shiro were there. It was an entirely selfish wish because Shiro was living his dream piloting the Kerberos mission, but he always knew what to do and Keith could use some wisdom.

He took a few deep breaths. 

They had to be soulmates for a reason. Sure they’d gotten off on the wrong foot… but Keith was more than willing to put that all aside. He didn’t actually _ like _ arguing and confrontation, he just found it difficult to let things go when he felt very strongly about them. 

“It’ll be okay,” Keith whispered to himself. He could make this work. Lance had a lot of friends, he was very popular with their classmates so he couldn’t be all bad. 

Was Lance in his room now, freaking out about Keith’s own name on his wrist? Had he noticed yet?

_ I feel sorry for whoever ends up being _ **_your_ ** _ soulmate! _

“Just talk to him tomorrow.  _ Without _ yelling,” Keith whispered to himself. 

* * *

The next day Keith approached Lance first. After all, Keith was the one who probably  _ most  _ wanted this to work out seeing as Lance wasn’t exactly pro-soulmates.

He’d sort of expected to at least be  _ acknowledged _ by him though, for Lance to make eye contact with him, or give him some sort of meaningful signal that he knew what was happening. Instead he was sitting in his usual place, chatting away with his friends, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world 

And then he raised an arm to wave at someone, his sleeve pulled up, and Keith _ saw. _

There wasn’t anything written there. Keith’s name wasn’t there. 

Keith didn’t know how he got through the rest of the day; it was a numb blur. He went through the motions, relying solely on muscle memory to get him through his classes.

It was only later that night, when he was safely tucked away in his room, that he allowed himself to break a little. 

Keith had heard about this happening sometimes, soulbonds being unrequited, but it was extremely rare and it had never occured to Keith that he might be one of the unlucky few. 

_ I should have known _ … he thought as tears rolled down his cheek. 

* * *

The next day the Kerberos Mission was declared missing. Keith was pushed past his breaking point.

* * *

Three days after that Keith was expelled from the Garrison with nothing but a small duffel bag containing his meagre belongings, a nasty black eye, and a broken heart. 

* * *

Keith didn’t really get over the disappointment of his unrequited soulmate, and the loss of the Kerberos Mission was crushing him, but he managed to bear it. Investigating the strange energy calling to him in the desert was a good distraction for the gnawing hollowness that had taken up residence in his chest. 

Jerking off was, too. It was pretty pathetic, taking himself in hand, stroking himself hard and fast until he came all over his own chest, but it was effective. He actually discovered, after quite a bit of self-exploration, that fucking himself silly on his fingers was even  _ more  _ effective at shutting his brain up. No room to think when he was stretching himself wide open and nailing his prostate. 

So that was Keith for the months following his expulsion; exploring caves in search of a mysterious energy, living off tinned soup, and jerking off. 

And then almost a year to the day since Kerberos was declared missing, Shiro crashed back into Keith’s life, and so did Lance McClain. 

Keith discovered very quickly that it was one thing to have an unrequited soulmate, and quite another to have an unrequited soulmate that was one of the only seven beings you could interact with, that you lived with in very close quarters, with whom you had a mystical bond via magical space lion. 

Not only that, but they  _ still  _ couldn’t get along. Something about the curve of Lance’s smirk brought out Keith’s most childish instincts, and even though he knew better, he couldn’t help but give as a good as he got. 

And boy did he get, Keith was pretty sure Lance hated him.  _ Hated _ him, and made a point about not letting Keith forget it in any given moment. 

When Lance wasn’t insulting his haircut or his clothes, he was insulting the way he flew or the way he fought. 

It was _ agony _ , but Keith didn’t really have any room to talk because when he wasn’t muttering snidely about Lance’s piloting skills, he was throwing jabs at him for his ridiculous flirting.

He could tell that they were testing even  _ Shiro’s _ patience with their incessant bickering, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was either shout and snipe back or burst into tears, and Keith  _ hated  _ crying. 

More than one night he lay awake staring at his ceiling wondering what he’d done to deserve this. 

But it didn’t matter. Not compared to their mission of saving the universe, so Keith threw himself into training and fighting, and carefully kept his wrist covered up with his glove. 

* * *

  
  


“Keith,” said Shiro one day, pulling him aside. 

“What’s going on with you and Lance?” he asked, brows creased together in concern. 

A leaden lump of guilt dropped into Keith’s belly. Shiro had so much on his plate already, he’d been through so much and he had so many responsibilities, and there was Keith selfishly adding to the weight Shiro had to carry because he wasn’t mature enough to handle it himself. 

“I mean,” Shiro continued, “Lance is nowhere near as nasty as that Griffin kid was to you. It isn’t like you to…” Shiro frowned as he searched for the word he wanted, but Keith understood. It wasn’t like him to be so fucking childish and immature. At least, it wasn’t for the Keith Shiro had known before he left on the mission. 

“I know what you mean, I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“It’s alright, Keith,” said Shiro kindly, “just… try and get along better? For my sake?”

Keith nodded, vowing to himself that he’d try. Just because Lance would never love him as his soulmate didn’t mean that Keith couldn’t try and be his friend. It would be good to put all the nastiness behind them for the sake of Voltron if nothing else. 

* * *

Keith had an opportunity that very day during training to try and… be nicer to Lance? Extend an olive branch in his direction? 

Shiro was teaching them some hand-to-hand defensive moves. It was mainly for everyone else’s benefit— If there was anything Keith was good at, it was fisticuffs— and Keith could see Lance practicing the combo Shiro had taught him against a punching bag. Jab, jab,  _ duck, _ hook. 

There was a good amount of force behind the blows, more than Keith would have expected Lance’s wiry frame to be capable of, but if he just widened his stance, and bent his elbows a little more, Keith was sure Lance could hit  _ harder.  _

Shiro would probably suggest that to him once he was through coaxing Hunk into throwing his weight around, (“C’mon, it’s just a punching bag, you can’t hurt it. I  _ know _ you can hit harder than that—” he was saying), but then it occurred to Keith… maybe  _ he  _ could suggest it. He could show that he was going to try and be helpful and friendly rather than critical and scathing. 

“What are you looking at, Mullet?” said Lance sourly, and with a jolt, Keith realized he’d been staring. 

“I, um—”

“Let me guess,” Lance interrupted, mouth twitching into that infuriating smirk, “admiring my form? You should be practicing if you wanna keep up with me. Or at least,  _ attempt  _ to.”

Normally Keith would bristle, they’d descend into a petty argument, and Shiro would be derailed from what he was doing to come over and deal with them. But not this time. Keith was determined to be better, so he choked back his irritation and anger, and forced his voice to be neutral.

“Your form is decent,” he began. Lance’s smug expression morphed into shock and it gave Keith a godly amount of satisfaction to fracture that look. 

“You should widen your stance and keep your elbows bent a little more, though” he continued. To Keith’s mind, the suggestion had been polite. Lance clearly didn’t agree. 

“Why don’t you mind your own business and worry about your  _ own  _ stance, Keith?” he snapped. 

With a crestfallen sigh, Keith did as Lance said. 

A few minutes later when Shiro essentially repeated what Keith had said to him, Keith felt Lance’s glare like tiny icicles needling into the back of his back of his head. 

_ Can’t you see I’m trying!? _ He wanted to shout. 

He punched the bag in front of him harder.

* * *

The second time he tried went even worse.

“Hunk!  _ Hunk!”  _ Keith was currently the sole occupant of the kitchen, and he heard Lance’s excited voice as he hollered from down the hall. He started yelling explanations before he even arrived. “I figured it out, how to make the training deck turn into a basketball court! Wanna shoot some—” he burst into the kitchen, and his sentence cut off abruptly when he saw that Hunk wasn’t there.

“Oh, it’s _ you _ ,” Lance said, like Keith was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of his shoe, prompting Keith to frown deeply. 

“Do you know where Hunk is?” asked Lance grudgingly.

Keith shrugged.

“Pidge said something about testing… something on Green,” answered Keith. Lance wilted like a sad sunflower, muttering “Aw  _ man _ , I wanted to play some ball,” to himself. 

“I’ll play with you. If you want,” offered Keith neutrally. 

Lance gave a haughty sniff.

“Like I’d wanna play with  _ you. _ ” 

Keith wasn’t proud of what came out his mouth next. Lance’s disdain hurt, and Keith wanted to hurt him back.

“You’re just scared you’ll lose. You can’t handle me being better than you,” he snapped.

“What did you say?” asked Lance, eyes flashing, voice dangerously low.

Keith was on his feet in an instant, a familiar rush of adrenaline spilling through his veins with the anticipation of a confrontation. 

“I said you’re  _ scared _ ,” repeated Keith. Except Keith was lying, _ he _ was the one who was scared. Scared of what it meant for him that his unrequited soulmate couldn't stand him. When he and Lance got like this, he didn’t know what to do _ but _ fight. The alternative was untenable.

“Listen here you—” Lance stepped in even closer. Keith was braced for it. Braced for the hurt. Braced to cover it up with anger.

A funny look came over Lance’s face, confusion undercutting his annoyance. 

“I don’t wanna play with you!” he snapped, and then he marched out of the room, leaving Keith blinking in the wake of his unexpected retreat. 

With a heavy sigh, Keith sat back down, thinking that maybe the best case scenario involved him avoiding Lance as much as possible to prevent their blow ups, rather than attempting to get along.   
  


* * *

And then Sendak infiltrated the castle, and Lance was injured.  _ Grievously _ injured, and there was nothing Keith could do to make it better. 

Of course, everything had worked out in the end but… Keith would never forget what a punch in the gut it had been to discover Lance lying so still, covered in so many bruises. It had been as if his whole chest was being compressed in a vice.

But Lance was fine, and he’d even said that they _ were _ a good team. He’d let Keith hold his hand, he’d  _ smiled _ at him, let him help him into a cryopod. 

And for the first time since realizing that his soulmark was unrequited, Keith thought that maybe things would be okay between them. Maybe they  _ could j _ ust be friends, and that would be enough for him…

But then Lance woke up, and shattered Keith’s hopes. 

  
  


* * *

“It sounds like the mice did more than  _ you _ though.”

“I punched Sendak!” Keith shouted back.

“Yeah, apparently after I emerged from a  _ coma _ and shot his arm off,” Lance sassed back. 

“We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!” cried Keith, aware that he was being hysterical, but unable to help himself. So many of his hopes were pinned on that moment, the moment he’d  _ finally  _ managed to get Lance to accept an olive branch.

“Nope. Don’t remember, didn’t happen.”

For a moment Keith was speechless, hurt and utterly defenseless. Somehow Lance always knew just what to say to hit him where he was soft and vulnerable. 

Keith felt like he’d been standing on a precipice ever since Lance’s name had appeared on his wrist, one nudge from  _ drowning _ in his own loneliness and misery. 

Lance’s words were the thing that finally pushed him over the edge.

Everyone was staring at him, expecting him to come back with some sort of caustic retort, but he had nothing. Lance was right, he’d been utterly  _ useless _ , utterly  _ powerless, _ and Lance had nearly  _ died _ . 

Being stuck twiddling his thumbs outside the castle had been torturous, he’d barely been able to stand it. Especially with the weight of knowing that Shiro and Lance had been taken prisoner, and that Pidge, tiny, tiny Pidge, was going to have to fight her way through all of Sendak’s soldiers single-handedly to save them.

He’d very nearly rattled apart, nearly come undone at the seams. He probably would have beaten the particle barrier until his knuckles were broken and bloody if it weren’t for Allura’s bracing presence next to him, cool and commanding even in the heat of a crisis. 

Because even though he wasn’t Lance’s soulmate, and Lance hated him, Keith cared about what happened to him. 

To his unending humiliation, he felt hot tears pooling in his eyes. He averted his gaze, looking down and away from the others. His fingers bit painfully into his biceps as he desperately tried to focus on the pain instead of the crushing shame and guilt he was swamped with.    
The room was silent and Keith could feel everyone staring at him.

  
“Keith?” murmured Shiro gently.

  
He needed to leave. He needed to be anywhere but here, he needed to be alone so he could fall apart. 

“S’cuse me,” he muttered, before getting up and practically running out of the room. 

  
Lance’s words echoed painfully through his skull with every step he took. 

  
_ It sounds like the mice did more than you though. _

_  
_ _ It sounds like the mice did more than you though. _

_  
_ _ It sounds like the mice did more than you though. _   
  


“Keith! Buddy! Wait up!” 

  
Lance had followed him, probably at the behest of Shiro. Keith upped his pace, he didn’t want to face anyone, let alone Lance.

“I can see you mullet-head! Hold up! Don’t make me chase you down, because I  _ will _ follow you all the way into your room.”

  
With a shaky sigh Keith came to a halt, furiously scrubbing at his eyes. He listened as Lance’s footsteps came closer, and then slowed until they came to a halt behind him.

  
“Well are you going to turn around and face me?” said Lance impatiently. 

With that tone, Shiro had definitely forced Lance to go after him, and the sound of it dashed Keith’s hopes that maybe, just maybe, Lance really had followed him because he actually cared a little. 

Fuck, he was pathetic. When would he learn to lower his expectations? His hopes were always frivolous, childish, silly, little things, and they weren’t the sort of things that happened to a person like him. He should have known better than to hope by now.

  
So Keith said nothing, desperately trying to repress the wetness trying to leak out from his eyes. Lance sighed.

  
“Oh, the silent treatment. That’s  _ super  _ mature Keith,” huffed Lance sarcastically, “Dude, why you gotta be so dramatic? Just turn around so we can get this conversation over with like two regular humans,” he continued.

  
“No,” Keith croaked, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

  
There was a beat of silence, and then Lance walked closer. 

  
Keith bit his lip and stared determinedly at the floor, and then at Lance’s high tops as they trudged into view. His vision blurred as his eyes leaked more tears despite his best efforts to suppress them and he tried to sniff inconspicuously, but judging by Lance’s shocked gasp he had failed at subtlety. 

  
“Keith… You’re crying,” Lance breathed incredulously. Keith looked up at glared at Lance through his tears.

“No _ shit _ . Whatever Shiro sent you to say to me, consider it said.” Keith’s voice wobbled embarrassingly. 

“Keith—”

He shouldered past Lance, and marched away. 

* * *

In the wake of that disaster, Keith was empty, stripped of all his emotional fortitude. It was all too easy to fall back on what he knew to make himself feel better. 

And that was where it started; when he fell back on what had starved off the depressing thoughts while he’d alone lived in the desert. 

Namely, jerking off. 

After a bit of poking around in the infirmary, he found a jelly-like substance that approximated the feel, and consistency of lube, and he squirreled it away to his room when no one was watching.

He’d done this so many times that it was routine now. He’d learned that it was better, the release was _ better _ , when he teased and worked himself up to it first, so that evening after dinner he got down to business. 

It would help him ignore the gaping hole in his chest and focus on doing his job as a paladin of Voltron, and it would release all the pent up frustration that probably wasn’t a good idea to take out on Lance.

He opened the jar of space-lube and left it open and within his reach on the bedside table, anticipation prickling in his gut. 

He shucked off his pants and boxers, and lay back on the bed, running his hands down his body. He slipped them underneath his shirt, pushing the fabric up to his chin so he could tease his nipples, casting his mind around for something arousing to move things along.

Usually kept things impersonal. He imagined nameless, faceless people.  _ Men _ . He picked parts he liked. Toned arms, maybe holding him, or holding him  _ down _ . He imagined a smirking mouth, the rumble of a deep voice in a chest that might be pressed against his back. 

Sighing, Keith ran his hands down his torso, stroking over his hip bones, and then down to the soft skin of his thighs. He imagined that his hands belonged to someone else. He imagined they were softer, less calloused. He imagined them parting his legs forcefully. Imagined places where that smirking mouth might press wet, lingering kisses…

He grabbed the lube and squeezed some hurriedly onto his fingers, familiar heat curling in his belly, awareness creeping across his flushed skin. 

He was hard already when he took himself in hand, giving his length a few slow strokes with a tight fist, letting out a tattered moan. 

It was easy to imagine that the wet tightness of his own hand was something else. That eyes dark with lust might peer up at him from where they were settled between his legs, smug about the reactions they were eliciting from him. (Keith stubbornly didn’t allow himself to imagine that the eyes might be blue.)

Keith’s thumb stroking over his tip could be a tongue. The tight circle of his thumb and forefinger could be a pair of lips stretched wide to accommodate him. 

He slipped one hand lower, spreading his legs as wide as they would go, brushing over the entrance to his body…

There was something inherently _ illicit _ about touching himself here, something _ exciting _ about curling his fingers inside to find the spot that would make him break apart into satisfied, quivering pieces. He’d narrowed down wringing pleasure out of that spot to a goddamn _ science  _ while he’d been out in the desert. 

He couldn’t stop the throaty little gasps escaping, but boy did he try, turning to the side and pressing his face into the blankets while he worked one slick finger inside. He was used to being in a derelict shack with not another soul around for miles and miles; he _ wasn’t _ used to having to control himself and keep it down.

He worked himself up to two, and then three fingers, pausing every so often to re-calibrate and grab more lube.

The hazy fantasy he’d worked up in his mind’s eye shifted and he imagined himself above his lover, straddling their hips. Lowering himself down on to them, letting them feel every inch of him as he let them inside…

Keith sat up on his knees. He shoved the hem of his shirt into his mouth for the dual purpose of keeping himself quiet, and holding it out of the way. He reached back with one hand so he could sink down onto his own fingers, stroking his cock with the other. 

_ Yes.  _

_ This _ was what he needed. 

He imagined a warm, firm body underneath him, bucking up into him to seek and give pleasure. 

If he wasn’t alone, and if his mouth wasn’t full of black fabric, Keith would ask them how it felt. He’d want to hear how good he was making them feel, because it was taking everything he had not to loudly cry out how good he felt. 

As he rode his own fingers, hips twitching, breath shaking, feeling so gloriously  _ full _ , Keith wondered what it would be like with a real cock. He wondered if he’d be able to feel their heartbeat inside of him, speeding up in time with their thrusts. 

His hand tightened and sped up where it was stroking his cock as Keith hurtled towards release. He was so close he could  _ taste _ it, and that was the moment his bedroom door swished open with no warning. 

_ Oh no. _

“Hey, so we need to—” a familiar voice, a sharp intake of breath. Those deep blue eyes he’d been trying so hard  _ not  _ to think about, seeing him like this. 

“Lance!” Keith gasped in surprise. It sounded breathy like a moan.

No.  _ Please _ , not now. Not when he was so close, not when he _ needed _ this so badly.

“Go away!” shouted Keith, even as he continued to stroke himself off, his whole arm trembling with exertion as he picked up the pace. He helplessly rose up on his knees, only to rock back down again onto his fingers. Lance walking in was the worst possible thing that could have happened, but somehow Keith couldn’t bear to stop. 

Especially when Lance’s made no move to leave. Lance’s eyes ran all over Keith’s body, staring like he wanted to imprint the image on the back of his eyelids. His cheeks darkened as he became flushed.

With the fabric of his shirt gone from his mouth, Keith’s breath was coming in loud, desperate little pants. Lance could see him, Lance could hear him, and Keith would never have him no matter how desperately he wanted him. 

“Lance,  _ fuck off! _ ”

Seeming to snap back to himself, Lance finally retreated, but not before Keith came, with a high, drawn out moan. 

* * *

Keith had no idea how to behave around Lance after that, so he straight up avoided him. He wouldn’t look directly at him or speak directly to him, because he was fairly certain that If he did either of those things, he would probably spontaneously combust into a million mortified pieces.

If Lance made fun of him, or expressed any of the general disgust he must surely feel over what he’d seen, Keith would die. It was one thing knowing that your soulmate would never be interested in you the same way—would probably be  _ horrified  _ at the very idea of the two of you together—but it would be something else entirely to have that expressed directly to his face. A whole different kettle of fish for Lance to sneer at him, or worse,  _ laugh.  _

It seemed like Lance was fine with the no-contact arrangement because he never pushed back—maybe he felt a fraction of the embarrassment that Keith did, and also didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

It made Keith feel a little sad, but it seemed like witnessing Keith in the throes of…  _ that,  _ had properly scared Lance away. 

If anything, it worked wonders for their levels of getting along. They went from having petty arguments basically every day, to having none at all (because they didn’t speak).

After a few days, Keith was just about ready to accept that that was just how things were gonna be between the two of them, when he got a knock on his door late one evening. 

“Decided to knock this time instead of just… barging in,” Lance joked weakly when Keith opened his door for him. 

“What do you want?” Keith crossed his arms defensively, preparing himself to be hurt. 

Lance winced. “Um, things have been… weird—? I was thinking that it might be good to, uh, discuss what happened…” Lance trailed off awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head. 

“We don’t need to discuss it, we can just forget about it,” said Keith brusquely. 

“It’s _ kiiiiinda  _ hard to forget.” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, I can’t bleach the inside of your head for you, Lance. You have to forget about it yourself.” 

“Yes, but do you  _ want  _ me to forget about it?” 

Keith didn’t understand the question.

“What?” 

“Do  _ you  _ want  _ me  _ to forget about it?” 

Keith couldn’t glean anything from Lance’s expression, his features were smooth and impassive. 

“Is that a trick question?” Keith demanded, his heart already racing, getting ready to kick in with a fight or flight response depending on how Lance answered. 

“It’s not a trick question, it’s a  _ simple _ question, do you want me to forget about it or not?” 

“Of course I want you to forget about it!” Keith exploded. He could feel blood rushing to his cheeks, and tears of humiliation welling in his eyes. 

Lance’s face pinched in confusion.

“Why?” 

“What do you mean why?!” Keith snarled. 

“Give me the reasons why you don’t want me to remember.”

“Uh, I don’t know,” said Keith sarcastically, “how about this whole fucking conversation? If you’re just gonna mock me, you might as well fuck off—”

“Woah, woah, I’m not mocking you.” 

Keith glared.

“I’m not!” Lance insisted, hands raised in front of himself as if to placate. Keith didn’t stop glaring. If he kept glaring, he wouldn’t start crying. 

“Listen,” Lance began, tone soft, “I just think… it’d be good for Voltron if we could get along, right?” 

Keith blinked, his glare melting away like frost in the morning sun.

“You… you want to get along? With _ me? _ ” 

It was impossible to tamp down the hope bubbling up in his chest. If they could get along, maybe they could become friends, and maybe Lance wouldn’t hate him. Keith would settle for that. 

For some reason Lance winced. 

“Yes, I wanna get along.” The words were forced out from between clenched teeth, but they made Keith happy nonetheless. 

“You’re not joking?” Keith checked. 

“Not joking.” Lance cleared his throat and coughed.

“Right, so, for the purposes of getting along, would it be better if I remembered, or forgot?” 

Keith felt like he was missing something. Like Lance was asking one question, but really meaning something totally different he couldn’t hope to decipher. 

“I don’t know—?” 

“Actually, nevermind that. How about we figure it out as we go?” said Lance suddenly.

Keith blinked. “Okay… sure.” 

Lance offered him a hand. “Truce?”

Keith took it. It made his skin tingle pleasantly. 

“Truce,” Keith agreed. 

* * *

“By the way, did you know Pidge is a girl!? She just told us!”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Heck, even  _ you  _ knew?” Lance sighed exaggeratedly. 

* * *

Keith wasn’t really sure what a truce would entail. 

He didn’t expect to be treated the same way Lance treated Hunk or Pidge—they were valued friends, or like Shiro—an admired mentor. He didn’t expect to be treated like Coran—a respected elder—or Princess Allura—an admired…  _ something, _ that made Keith’s gut clench with jealousy he had no right to feel. 

Basically, Keith didn’t expect to ever earn or enjoy that same level of closeness with Lance—everyone else was a person Lance could get along with  _ without  _ the impetus of the fate of the world being on their shoulders.

But he was eager to find what he would be permitted. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in my wip folder for a very long time. Maybe posting the first half will inspire me to finish it up 😅😅
> 
> You can find me [here](https://greenteafiend.tumblr.com/) on tumblr or [here](https://twitter.com/greenteafiend1) on twitter :)


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